Chapter 81: The Weasley Family
The moment Ron spotted the snacks, his expression brightened instantly.
After greeting everyone, he dug in with gusto, eating mouthful after mouthful.
Russell took the opportunity to observe one of the members of the future "Golden Trio." Ron was tall and lanky, with vivid red hair, a long nose, and freckles scattered across his face. He was wearing an oversized, well-worn set of pajamas—the sleeves and pant legs far too long for him.
Russell had never harbored any prejudice against Ron. In his view, Ron was far from incompetent; it was simply his family circumstances that made him more insecure and sensitive. Judging by his clothes, they were most likely hand-me-downs from his older brothers.
Ron's position in the family was, frankly, awkward. He was neither the eldest nor the youngest, nor did he stand out as much as his brothers. As a result, he received comparatively little attention, often fading into the background at home.
Russell remembered that Ron's wand and textbooks were secondhand, while Ginny's things were new. To be honest, the favoritism was hard to ignore. Given all that, the fact that Ron hadn't grown bitter or twisted already spoke volumes about his character.
"Um… is there something on my face?"
Perhaps noticing Russell staring for too long, Ron assumed he had food on him and began wiping his cheeks.
"Nothing," Russell replied, realizing his own lapse in manners and quickly looking away.
Wednesday, meanwhile, remained absorbed in her Quidditch magazine, completely undistracted.
Bringing her along was surprisingly easy.
"You like the Puddlemere United team?" Ron asked after finishing the last of his cola and noticing the magazine in Wednesday's hands.
"They're good," Ron said with a shrug, "but I prefer the Chudley Cannons. Everyone in my family does."
Sensing the conversation starting to stall, Russell suggested they head outside to play some Quidditch. Everyone agreed immediately.
"Hey, Russell, Cedric—so you're just going to watch us suffer while you enjoy yourselves?" Fred complained indignantly.
"That's the world for you," George chimed in. "The hateful privilege class."
The twins exaggerated their misery so convincingly that everyone couldn't help but laugh.
"Alright, alright—we'll help," Russell said, rolling up his sleeves along with Cedric. They mimicked the twins' method: grabbing the gnomes, spinning them wildly, and hurling them away.
"This would be way easier if we had a cat," Fred suddenly remarked. "Would save us a lot of trouble."
Then he turned toward Russell.
"Hey, Russell—don't you have a pet cat?"
"Oh—right," Russell groaned, smacking his forehead. "You're not wrong… but I think I left it at Hagrid's."
"You're really a stellar pet owner," everyone said in unison, giving him strange looks.
Wednesday, apparently bored with flying, picked up a garden gnome curiously. The unconscious one from earlier had already been quietly disposed of by Russell—otherwise she might have wanted to play with it longer.
"Let me go! Let me go!" the gnome shrieked, struggling in Wednesday's grip, words spilling rapidly from its mouth.
Wednesday looked intrigued. The little creature appeared foolish at first glance, yet it could actually speak human language.
After all, even Cornish pixies—those notoriously cunning beings—could do nothing more than shriek and chatter.
She decided to conduct a small experiment.
Wednesday rummaged through her pocket and produced a small vial marked with a skull symbol; the faint outline of a cyanide warning was visible on the label. She uncorked it and, expressionless, took a long swallow herself as if it were plain water. Then she poured a little into the gnome's mouth.
The gnome reacted violently. Its body convulsed, twitching as if in the throes of a seizure. With a final jerk, it went still, eyes snapping shut.
Dead? Wednesday frowned slightly. Just as she was about to toss it aside, the gnome suddenly jolted awake, staring at the vial in her hand with unmistakable longing.
"More… give me more…"
"Greedy little thing," Wednesday said with a faint smile, flinging it far into the distance. She had no intention of sharing.
"Wednesday, don't you have these things in your garden at home?" Russell asked curiously, seeing her interest.
"No," she replied. "We only have coffins and ghosts."
With everyone pitching in, clearing out the gnomes went much faster. By the time they were done, the sun was already sinking toward the horizon.
"Children, dinner's ready!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called out across the garden.
Since the Weasley dining room couldn't hold so many people, she had moved the table outside. Though it was nearly August, the weather was still pleasantly cool.
Once seated, Russell finally met Percy, as well as the Weasleys' youngest daughter, Ginny.
Russell already knew Percy—not well, but well enough. Percy had a good impression of diligent, high-achieving students like him, and given Russell's friendly ties with the twins, greetings were exchanged easily.
As for Wednesday, Mrs. Weasley had already introduced her.
"Everyone must be starving—try my cooking," Mrs. Weasley said, bringing out an oil lamp and hanging it nearby to add some light.
Percy adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his expression serious. "Dad isn't back yet? Is he working overtime again?"
Speak of the devil—there was a loud crack, and a figure appeared at the garden gate.
Arthur Weasley, of average height and slightly stout, with his trademark red hair, walked in while shrugging off his coat, looking exhausted.
"It's been terribly busy lately—you know, Harry Potter's about to start school, and I—" He stopped short, noticing the extra guests.
"Oh, we have company. Welcome!" he said warmly. "Care to introduce them?"
"Russell—I've heard of you," Arthur added after hearing his name, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. "You must tell me all about the Muggle world later."
"Our dad's a Muggle fanatic," Ron muttered under his breath.
"Wednesday Addams… Gomez's daughter, right?" Arthur said thoughtfully. "I haven't seen him in a long time. How's he doing?"
"Quite well," Wednesday replied after sipping her chilled pumpkin juice. "He does absolutely nothing all day."
A few years earlier, Pugsley's school had held a charity sale and accidentally sold off a magical item, causing a minor commotion.
That was how they had met.